


a truth in the lie

by Supergirlx55



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: (-ish), Anal Sex, And don't cheat on your wife if you can't handle the guilt, Angst, Bottom Johnny Lawrence, But that's okay because Daniel is kind of a mess too, Don't wear a nice shirt if you're going to have sex in it probably, Frotting, Guest-starring the mirrored wall in Johnny's dojo, Johnny is a trainwreck, M/M, No paperback romances here, Post-Season/Series 02, We get it Johnny you're a MAN, so it evens out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supergirlx55/pseuds/Supergirlx55
Summary: Johnny Lawrence is a master at lying to himself.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 45
Kudos: 168





	a truth in the lie

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's note 1:** This is set ambiguously after season 2, but where none of the major events of "No Mercy" ever took place. Just use your imagination.
> 
>   
> **Author's note 2:** To Ian, thank you for pushing me to post this. And for helping me get into this fandom in the first place. <3

If you had told Johnny Lawrence at seventeen that thirty-some years later he'd be the one running Cobra Kai, he wouldn't have doubted it for a second. He'd shrug, like it was no big deal, and say duh. Of course.

If you had told him that after all that time, Daniel LaRusso would still be his greatest rival... he'd clench his teeth in anger. But he might not be all that surprised.

If you'd told him that at fifty-two Johnny might find himself pressed up against the wall of his own dojo, jeans down around his ankles and LaRusso's cock buried in his ass, he would've decked you.

He'd probably beat the shit out of you just for thinking it.

* * *

Johnny hated fucking face to face. Correction: he hated fucking _Daniel_ face to face. He hated the way those stupid doe eyes always seemed to pierce right through him in the heat of it, zealous and wild. He hated that little hitch of breath just as Daniel pushed his way in, and the way he would bite his lip every time Johnny clenched around him.

This wasn't much better, though. Hands braced against the mirrored glass without any purchase, eyes screwed shut so he wouldn't have to see himself: so needy and debased.

When he was on top, Johnny felt powerful, vindicated. Finally sticking it to LaRusso in the most primal sense, claiming the victory that was rightfully his. Except when those big brown eyes would find him again — and then it was all over. When Daniel looked Johnny in the eye, it really didn't matter who was on top and who was on their back. Beneath that searching, penetrating gaze Johnny felt raw and vulnerable; ripped open, guts on display. He felt just like that seventeen-year-old kid again, so angry and confused. So _wanting._

"Open your eyes." How did he know they were closed? "Open your eyes, Johnny..." Daniel's voice a low rumble in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

_You and me? We're not done._

At seventeen, it had been simple. Win the championship. Get the girl. Leave LaRusso in the dust. If not for one illegal kick that had cost him everything. Now, decades later, he was still paying the price of LaRusso's ill-gotten win.

Johnny opened his eyes slowly, biting back a groan at the sight of himself. He was the picture of debauchery: cheeks flushed, hair plastered to his face with sweat. His dick hard and dripping.

He hated it, hated himself for needing this so badly. For loving every damn second of it.

* * *

It always started with a fight.

_You wanna finish this?_

There was no finishing anything; they both knew that well enough by now. This dance of theirs, this toxic tango of vitriol and lust — it would only end when both of them were in the ground.

These days, Daniel used just about any excuse to pick a fight with Johnny. Some petty squabble between their students. Robby's grades. Miguel's attitude. A bonsai tree at Miyagi-do that was slightly out of place. An argument would turn into a sparring match, a sparring match into a brawl... And before either of them knew it, they were right back here again: tearing at each other's clothes, as if that had been the point all along.

He bit down hard on his lip when Daniel readjusted the angle, his cock now hitting Johnny's prostate with every thrust. Goddammit, how was he so good at this?

It's not like Johnny hadn't banged plenty of babes in his life. He'd never had a problem getting laid — but this thing with LaRusso? Nothing else even came close. They kept finding more ways to fuck each other, and every single one was a _revelation._ Like Daniel down on his knees with Johnny's hands in his hair, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed, finally putting those cocksucker lips to good use. Or Johnny bent over the desk in his office, half-naked and needy, biting his fist not to moan as Daniel rocked into him with slow, deep thrusts...

Then there were times when Daniel would let his guilt show. He would say things like "I love my wife," and "we shouldn't be doing this," and "this is the last time, I mean it." So fucking cliché. He would act like he wasn't the one at fault here, like he hadn't made this choice for himself every single time — again and again. Like Johnny was to blame for all of it.

But Johnny didn't feel guilty, not even a little bit. What he felt was nowhere near as simple as guilt.

Not love, of course. It couldn't be, because Johnny knew he wasn't gay; neither of them were. This wasn't some paperback romance, they weren't about to ride off into the sunset together. But in those rare moments when he was just drunk enough to be honest with himself, right before blacking out... Jonny would close his eyes and think about Daniel.

That floppy black hair. The curve of his lips. The way he smiled with his whole face when he was happy, and the tense way his jaw clenched when he was mad. The way he looked at him every time that they fucked — like he was staring straight into Johnny's soul.

That's when he knew, if only for a fleeting second: this thing between them went much deeper than lust.

* * *

They were both so close now. He could tell by the way Daniel's thrusts had sped up, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, and Johnny's stomach clenched in anticipation of his own climax. Come on, come on...

But then there was a hand clutching his balls, and an urgent voice in his ear, saying: " _Wait._ Don't come yet."

"Goddammit, LaRusso..."

"I wanna see you." Daniel pulled out, and a firm grip on Johnny's shoulder spun him around until his back hit the mirror. Then they were face to face.

" _—Don't._ " He turned away, filled with anger and self-loathing. "Don't fucking look at me like that." But Daniel cupped his cheek, gentle yet insistent, pulling Johnny's face back to him until their eyes finally met.

"You're beautiful..."

Johnny grit his teeth, but he couldn't look away. "Shut up."

"No, John, I mean it. You're the most gorgeous goddamn thing I've ever seen in my life." Daniel swallowed, but held the eye contact as he added: "You always have been."

"I fucking hate you." He was aiming for angry, but instead the words came out weak and breathless; as the last of Johnny's control crumbled and he surged forward, crushing their mouths together in a desperate, hungry kiss.

It was so hot, so raw— so _motherfucking good._ Daniel's tongue in his mouth, Daniel's fingers digging into his skin, hard enough to bruise. They pressed their hips together as Johnny let all his inhibitions go at long last, giving in and simply letting himself rut against Daniel in mindless pleasure.

He wasn't sure when either of them came. They stayed like that for a long time: still rocking against each other, their stomachs slick with sweat and spunk, as they panted into each other's mouths.

They still had most of their clothes on; Daniel's nice dress shirt would be an utter mess by now. But Johnny liked that, ruining his things. Relished it each time like his own private little victory.

Eyes closed and feeling spent, he finally let himself slide down against the glass. Daniel was right behind him, collapsing in a sweaty heap against Johnny's chest. Their breathing slowed, rapid heartbeats returning to normal. Johnny wanted so desperately to stay like this, just a little while longer. Pretending.

In a moment Daniel would open his eyes and get up, readjust his clothes, complain about the jizz smeared on his shirt (as if he wasn't just as culpable). He and Johnny might argue about it for a minute... and then Daniel would leave.

Back to his wife. Back to his kids. Back to his perfect suburban life, that didn't include an old high school rival as his lover.

 _Good, fuck him,_ Johnny tried to tell himself — but it felt like a lie. The truth was much less convenient. The truth was words that caught in his throat, and thoughts that he refused to admit to. And it was soulful brown eyes that always seemed to find his, no matter how many times he tried to look away.

Daniel stirred against him, not quite ready to get up yet, and repositioned himself until his face was resting in the crook of Johnny's neck. Johnny stroked his hair, allowing himself this small moment of tenderness.

He knew it was just his imagination, feeling Daniel softly murmur something against his skin. Something faint, just barely resembling words.

Words that almost sounded like "I love you."

_~End~_

**Author's Note:**

> If you're feeling devastated by that ending... _good._
> 
> Er, what I mean to say is—  
> Don't worry. There will be a sequel.


End file.
